


Two Hawkes and a Pirate Walk Into a Sex Club...

by Arbryna



Series: Right Kind of Wrong [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Play, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, F/F, Group Sex, One Shot, Other, Sex Club, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/F/F, Tribadism, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically just what the title implies. Isabela introduces the Hawke sisters to one of her favorite little establishments in Antiva.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Hawkes and a Pirate Walk Into a Sex Club...

The Hedonista is nicer than she expected. Not that Bethany has anything to compare it to, really. She's been in the Blooming Rose, of course, and it was nice enough—plush furniture and lavish decoration, having at least the appearance of cleanliness even if that's all it was. That was business, though, and in Hightown no less; for some reason she thought a place such as this—in Antiva City of all places—would be…seedier, somehow. Well, if she's honest, she never really considered that a place like this would even exist. 

The foyer is a small, tidy room, well-lit with lamps hung on the walls. The woman behind the counter smiles as Isabela leads them in. Bethany glances at the curtained arch on the back wall and shifts closer to Marian. Guarding the arch is a massive Qunari (or is he? Something tickles at the back of her mind, some word for the ones who have left their faith, but she can't remember it)—tall and hulking, the bare skin of his broad chest silver-gray and gleaming. His arm looks thicker than her head. Her stomach flutters nervously as Isabela exchanges words and coin with the woman behind the counter. 

"All right, my lovelies," Isabela says when she's finished, slipping around behind Bethany and Marian to sling her arms over both their shoulders. "We're all paid up for the evening. Now let's get to the fun part." 

Bethany's cheeks flush hot at the suggestive waggle of Isabela's eyebrows, at the knowledge of what they're all about to do. She glances past Isabela to her sister, who is valiantly trying to look confident and unaffected. Marian catches her gaze and slides her hand across the small of Isabela's back, fingers stroking reassuringly at Bethany's arm. 

Isabela leads them right up to the thick velvet curtain and slides out from between them. To Bethany's surprise—and her sister's, a quick glance proves—Isabela flings her arms around the Qunari's neck and plants a firm kiss on his lips. "Still here then, Marco?" she asks when she pulls away. 

Marco chuckles, his hands settling easy on Isabela's hips. "It is good coin," he says, a faint Antivan accent coloring his rich, deep voice. "Far more than I could earn elsewhere, given my origin. I would be a fool to give it up." 

"I'm not sure there's enough coin in the world to make me stay in one place more than a fortnight," Isabela remarks dryly.

"No," Marian jumps in breezily, sliding her arm around Isabela's waist. She smirks. "It takes a pretty face or two to do that."

"Hush, you." Isabela smacks lightly against Marian's chest, shooting her a playful glare. 

"It has been quite a while since your last visit, Isabela," Marco notes. 

"Yes, well, pressing matters and all," Isabela says, shifting uncomfortably. "You know how it is." 

"Indeed." Exchanging a glance with the woman behind the counter, Marco reaches for the edge of the curtain. "I trust you remember the rules?" 

Isabela grins. "But of course. How else would I know how to break them?" 

Marco laughs and pulls the curtain aside. "Enjoy yourselves, ladies. Isabela is sure to take good care of you both." 

The room Isabela leads them into is almost familiar, very like the Rose. A bar extends halfway along one wall, polished mahogany gleaming in the dim lamplight. A handful of patrons are seated on stools around it, most with a partner or two sidled up next to them or between their legs as they drink, talk, and press kisses into lips and throats. The rest of the room is open space: walls lined with couches and chaises, small tables scattered throughout the middle, the majority of them occupied. The air is filled with a variety of aromas; Bethany can pick out jasmine and vanilla, cinnamon and rose, and undertones of leather and sweat. They all combine with the warmth of the room to cloud Bethany's senses, and she presses closer to Marian to keep from stumbling. 

"You all right?" Marian murmurs into Bethany's ear, slipping an arm around her sister's waist to steady her.

Bethany nods. "It's just…overwhelming." Off to their right, a dwarven woman straddles the lap of an elven one. Her hand disappears down the elf's trousers, and Bethany quickly averts her eyes as heat stains her cheeks. 

"Go ahead and look, Sweetness," Isabela chuckles into Bethany's other ear. "They wouldn't be here if they didn't want to be seen."

Nibbling on her lower lip, Bethany cautiously raises her eyes back to the amorous couple. The elf's head lolls back against the couch, eyes closed in pleasure as the dwarf's hand works between her legs. Bethany can imagine what that hand is doing, and it brings a heat of a different kind to her face, spreading down her chest. 

"So none of these people are…for hire?" Bethany asks in a hushed voice.

"Why, are we not enough for you?" Marian teases, her nose tickling at Bethany's cheek. 

"You are just too precious," Isabela coos, smirking at Bethany. "There are some whores here, of course, but most people come here because it's _not_ a brothel."

A soft cry draws Bethany's attention back to the couch, where the elven woman is arching away from the couch and into her lover's hand. As her trembling subsides, her eyes slide open and catch Bethany's; she smiles lazily at Bethany before turning back to her lover.

Bethany swallows hard and looks away, only to see a blonde elf making his way toward them. As he nears, she can see dark, wavy lines tattooed down one side of his face. "Isabela!" he calls out amicably.

"Zevran," Isabela says, quirking an eyebrow in greeting. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Me?" Zevran chuckles. "I could say the same for you, my dear. It has been ages since I have seen these walls graced with your presence." 

Beside Bethany, Marian tenses; her hand twitches at Bethany's waist, as though she's considering drawing it away. Bethany frowns.

"You remember Hawke of course—oh, Hawke," Isabela tuts when she turns to see Marian's sudden tension. "You don't think he's going to rat you out to the Maker or something, do you?" 

Zevran steps closer, a gentle smile on his lips as he tilts his head in greeting. "It is good to see you again, Champion. This radiant beauty is your sister, yes?" 

Marian's jaw clenches tighter, her eyes widening in a mixture of fear and anger that Bethany quickly understands. Isabela assured them that no one would know them here, let alone know that they were far closer than most sisters. Zevran doesn't seem bothered by it, though, even if there aren't very many reasons one would bring their sister to a sex club, of all places. 

"Do not worry, my dears," Zevran says reassuringly. "I have seen far more scandalous things in my time. It happens when one is raised in a brothel, after all." He looks around, his eyes settling back on Isabela. "This place has a far more welcoming atmosphere, however. It is much more fun when all parties are on equal footing, yes?"

Isabela slings an arm around Zevran's shoulders. "I'll say. Zev here is the one who introduced me to this place," she explains. 

"Indeed I did. And what a fine introduction it was." Zevran grins, his eyebrows waggling at the memory, before he steps out from under Isabela's arm. "But my dears, I am afraid I must depart your company. I have a previous engagement of my own, if you know what I mean." He glances toward one of the doorways leading out of the room, where a pair of comely elves—one male, one female—appear to be waiting for him. 

"Go get 'em, Zev," Isabela says, taking the opportunity to take a passing grab at his arse as he departs. She turns back to Bethany and Marian, who has relaxed considerably after Zevran's words. "Let's find ourselves a room that's a bit more private, shall we?" 

 

"Private" is perhaps not the word Bethany would use to describe the room Isabela leads them to. It's smaller, to be sure; a few beds are scattered throughout, along with more couches and things, leaving less room to walk or stand. There is also considerably less _clothing_ ; there is no pretense at casual socializing here. A woman straddles a man's hips on one bed, riding up and down as sweat drips down her back, while next to them on the same bed, a man bends over as his female lover takes him from behind with an apparatus similar to one Isabela has used occasionally on her ship. On a different bed, a number of people—Bethany counts four, or perhaps five, of various genders—are all arching and thrusting in a mass of tangled limbs. A woman buries her head between the legs of another seated on a couch, while a man kneels behind her on the ground and thrusts, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips. 

The air in here smells like nothing more than sex, plain and simple, and the scent is only heightened by the moans and grunts and whimpers carrying to Bethany's ears. Her heart pounds rapidly in her chest as moisture floods between her legs. 

"I think little sister is having a bit of trouble," Isabela notes, grinning at Bethany's flushed face and hooded eyes. 

"We'll have to do something about that, won't we?" Marian murmurs, her fingertips tracing teasing strokes into Bethany's side. A delicious shiver winds its way up Bethany's spine, curls around the base of her neck at the contact. 

Isabela leads the way again, this time to an empty chaise. "The beds are all full, so this will have to do." 

Bethany stands stiffly, staring at the cushioned surface as her nerves tickle at her stomach. She wants to do this—has been excited about the idea since Isabela brought it up—but the thought of doing such things in a room full of people is so much different than the reality. 

"They're far too distracted to care much for what you're doing, Sweetness," Isabela intones, pressing against Bethany's back. Her hands slip around to the front, fingers toying with the laces of her trousers. 

Marian reaches up to cup Bethany's face, her eyes warm and gentle. "You can stop this any time."

"I know." Bethany nods, and her stomach flutters as she breathes in slow and deep. "I don't want to stop it."

A smile spreads across Marian's lips as she lowers them to Bethany's. The kiss is slow and undemanding, her tongue peeking out to idly trace the shape of Bethany's lips. Bethany moans into her sister's mouth, reaching up to tangle her fingers in short dark hair. There's something so freeing about being able to do just this much, to just enjoy the simple slide of lips and tongue and the press of their bodies without worrying about who might see and judge them. 

Isabela sets to work on unlacing Bethany's trousers, shoving them down over her hips along with her smallclothes. Marian slides her hands under Bethany's tunic, pulling the material over Bethany's head before kissing a path down her throat. Warm, sure hands settle at Bethany's bare hips, tug her closer as Marian sinks onto the edge of the chaise. 

Bethany's knees threaten to buckle beneath her as Marian's mouth closes around her nipple at the same time that Isabela's calloused fingertips trail down her stomach to tease at the wiry curls between her legs. She gasps, reaches out to Marian's shoulders to steady herself, and Isabela chuckles.

"Slide back, Hawke, and make room for the poor girl." Isabela's lips brush against Bethany's throat, breath hot and moist against pale skin. "This will be a lot more fun if she's not worrying about staying upright." 

Thighs trembling, Bethany turns and sits down in the space Marian creates for her, settling between Marian's legs. Strong arms wrap around her waist, pull her back flush against Marian's chest. With her sister holding her, Bethany feels a hundred times more secure and comfortable being naked in a room full of strangers. She slides her hands down Marian's arms, laces their fingers together as she leans her head back against Marian's shoulder. 

"Better?" Marian asks, the quiet murmur tickling at Bethany's ear.

"Much." Bethany turns her head to press a gentle kiss into the underside of Marian's jaw. It only stays gentle for a moment, though; Marian turns her own head, and soon Bethany is craning her neck to meet her sister's lips more fully, reaching back to tug her closer by her hair. Marian's hips arch up into Bethany's backside as they kiss, her hands slide up to cup and knead full breasts, and Bethany moans indulgently into her sister's mouth. 

Thus overwhelmed, Bethany is only faintly aware of Isabela tugging off her boots, then the rest of her clothing. It makes the shock of Isabela's tongue between her legs all the greater, and a sharp cry rises from her chest and joins the chorus of similar sounds throughout the room. It can't have been very loud at all, but to Bethany it seems as though it must have been heard by everyone in the building. Embarrassment flushes her face, and she tenses and shuts her eyes.

"It's all right," Marian breathes hot against her cheek. "If anyone is looking, it's only because you're so beautiful like this." She chuckles, a low and sensual thing. "I can't blame them, really." 

When she dares to open her eyes, Bethany finds that there aren't all that many people looking after all. A couple of glances still linger, but they're not threatening or invasive—there's no intent other than appreciation, trailing along the curves of her body as small smiles pull at kiss-swollen lips. She finds herself growing less self-conscious and more aroused by the attention. Isabela grins and presses Bethany's thighs farther apart, buries her tongue and teeth and lips in the slick flesh between them; Bethany moans, relaxing back against Marian as she gives herself over to sensation.

The plush velvet against her bare skin is divine, a stark contrast to the rough wool of Marian's pants rubbing against the outside of her thighs, against her arse with each thrust of her hips. Marian's breath comes hot and quick against her neck, and Bethany knows without looking—without feeling—that her sister is aching for attention of her own. Panting as Isabela's mouth and hand continue their work, Bethany plants a palm on Marian's thigh, bracing herself as her other hand reaches around behind her. 

It's not the most comfortable position, or the easiest, but she manages to slip her hand between her sister's legs, grinding the thick seam of Marian's pants up into her clit. Marian grunts, her arms tightening around Bethany's waist as they rock in time with one another. Sweat slicks over Bethany's skin, slides down her face and chest in little droplets, and Marian catches some with her tongue as she presses hot open-mouthed kisses into Bethany's neck. 

Every nerve in Bethany's body is tingling, every muscle shaking with the need for release. Isabela alternates between tugging at Bethany's clit with her teeth and flicking at it with her tongue as her fingers pump in and out, the wrinkled skin of her knuckles dragging against slick walls. 

Suddenly Isabela curls her fingers, presses against that one spot inside as she gives Bethany's clit a long, hard suck, and Bethany shatters. She cries out as her body tenses, then falls back against Marian as her body is engulfed in hot spasms. 

It's only after she's recovered a little that she realizes that she's the only one of the three of them who is naked; oddly enough, she finds she doesn't quite mind, though whether it's due to the intensity of her climax or simply loosened inhibitions she doesn't know. Nevertheless, the disparity in clothing is something that she plans to remedy as soon as she can move her limbs again. 

Isabela rises up on her knees, her chin glistening with Bethany's release as she grins and licks her lips. "That was something," she says appreciatively, bringing her fingers to her mouth to suck them clean. "How do you feel about this place now, Sweetness?" 

A sated smile spreads across Bethany's lips. "I might be warming up to it. Though I think I need a bit more experience to know for sure." Her hand, trapped forgotten behind her, presses up between Marian's legs again.

"Beth," Marian gasps, her hips jerking into Bethany's hand. 

"Well that's what we're here for." Isabela rises to her feet, braces herself against Bethany's thighs as she leans in to kiss Bethany, long and hot and slow. Bethany can taste herself on Isabela's lips; the smell of her own arousal is thick and sharp on Isabela's skin. She moans, removes her hands from Marian to press against Isabela's cheeks. 

Marian whimpers, squeezes Bethany's breasts insistently. Bethany pulls away from Isabela with a grin, her own intent mirrored in Isabela's eyes. 

It takes some maneuvering, but Bethany succeeds in turning around to straddle Marian's lap, tugging at the laces of her vest and tunic. While she's doing that, she can feel fingers brushing against the wetness between her own legs as Isabela works at Marian's trousers. It sends little aftershocks of pleasure into her belly, and at one point she has to stop, with Marian's tunic halfway up her torso, when Isabela not-so-accidentally rubs a bit higher. Eventually, though, Marian is as naked as her sister, and with Bethany straddling her hips, she is completely at Bethany's mercy. 

Leaning down, Bethany claims Marian's lips in a hot kiss, tongue licking out into Marian's mouth as her hips grind down. Marian's hips arch up, and they both gasp at the fleeting glide of their sexes against one another. Bethany shifts a little and reaches down between her legs, parting her lips to press her own slick flesh against her sister's. Marian's fingers bite into Bethany's hips as they share a wanton groan between them. 

Bethany braces herself against the top of the tapered back of the chaise as she rocks with more fervor. Marian buries her face between Bethany's breasts, kisses and nips at the soft skin there between pants and moans. Isabela, not one to be left out, rests one knee on the seat behind Bethany and slips a hand between Marian's legs. Her breasts are bare and slippery with sweat where they slide against Bethany's back, but Bethany is far too distracted to wonder when Isabela disrobed.

From her higher vantage point, Bethany can see more of the room, more couples and groups enjoying one another. Off in one corner, a couple that has just finished—for the time being—is actually helping another; one of the men kneels at the head of a man whose lover is riding him, offering his hands for her to brace against. Behind him, his partner is wedged between him and the wall, feet planted at his back to keep him upright. 

Now that she's a bit less self-conscious, and her mind a lot more clouded with sex, it's easier to let go and just enjoy the ambiance. Bethany concentrates on grinding against Marian, but the sounds of others' pleasure wash over her, and the glimpses of arched backs and hard cocks and bared breasts and faces twisted in ecstasy only serve to drive her closer to another release. 

When Isabela bends her thumb so that it knocks against Bethany's sex as she thrusts, Bethany's not sure how much longer she can hold out. Fortunately, Marian is just as close; her jaw clenches, her hands tighten at Bethany's hips, and Bethany presses harder against her with each grind of her hips. 

She climaxes for a second time with Isabela pressed to her back and Marian arching desperately beneath her. Marian follows soon after, thanks in part to Isabela's thumb snaking its way between them to rub at her clit. Bethany's arms tremble to hold her weight against the back of the chaise; she gives up on it and slides back to capture her sister's lips again, pressing lazy kisses into Marian's mouth. Isabela's fingers, still slick with Marian's release, trace idle circles into Bethany's sweat-slick back. 

Bethany feels dirty and sinful and so, so good. She's almost sad, really, that they'll have to return to Isabela's ship when they're done. Part of her wants to never leave, to stay here and revel in the feeling of freedom that seems to permeate the air here, to lie back and let it settle on her skin and set her insides on fire.

Isabela, of course, has other ideas. She stands and moves until she's facing Bethany, reaches down to pull her away from Marian and up into a heated kiss. "Scoot back a bit," she murmurs into Bethany's lips. "You two can't have all the fun." 

As she complies, Bethany sinks her teeth into her lower lip, wondering what Isabela has in mind. Isabela wastes no time in slipping between the two sisters, her back to Bethany and her hips at the height of Marian's chin. 

Marian grins and grasps Isabela's hips, and Isabela moans loud and indulgent as Marian's head dives between her thighs. Bethany rakes her nails down Isabela's back, just deep enough to sting a little, and Isabela shudders and braces herself against the back of the chaise. Bethany's hands flatten as they reach the small of Isabela's back, sliding down to squeeze and caress the firm flesh below. 

It's not enough, not for Bethany; she wants to feel connected to this, wants to be more involved. She slips a hand down between Isabela's legs, and her fingers bump against Marian's chin before finding their way to Isabela's slick cunt (she blushes inwardly to think of it as such, but Isabela's been insistent on teaching them the proper names for things). She thrusts into Isabela with three fingers, then four, groaning softly as hot flesh clenches around her. 

Isabela urges them on with gasped instructions, one hand tangled in Marian's hair and the other holding her up as her hips jerk back and forth between them. One such instruction is interrupted mid-word by a surprised moan when Bethany's curled thumb bumps against the tighter opening of her arse. Nerves flutter in Bethany's chest; she's always shied away from this before, despite Isabela's assurances of the pleasure in it, but she's feeling a bit bolder tonight, a bit more open to trying new things. 

After dipping her thumb in the copious wetness seeping into her palm, Bethany presses her thumb against the tight ring of muscle, then past it. Isabela stiffens and lets out a deep groan. "Someone's feeling naughty," she pants approvingly, slowly starting to move her hips again. 

When Isabela comes, Bethany can feel her tight around her fingers and her thumb, clenching and releasing as her body shakes. Bethany holds on, slowing her thrusts to ride out Isabela's climax; when the spasms begin to subside, she starts to pull out only to be stopped by Isabela's hand reaching back to close around her wrist.

"Don't stop," Isabela pants, still grinding into Marian's mouth. 

Bethany loses count of how many times Isabela tenses against her, around her; she leans her forehead against Isabela's back, pressing open-mouthed kisses into the sweat-slick skin and thrusting until her arm burns with fatigue. Finally Isabela relaxes, sitting back on her heels and letting Bethany slide out of her. 

Marian's head falls against the back of the chaise. Her eyes drift closed as she works her jaw a couple of times, her face slick with Isabela's release. 

"Well aren't you a mess," Isabela says smugly, leaning in to lick a broad stripe of herself off of Marian's chin. "Luckily, that's what they've got towels for." 

Isabela climbs off of the chaise and saunters over to a table standing against the wall, completely unbothered by the fact that she's naked—but that's Isabela for you. Marian shifts in her seat and holds out her arm in invitation, and Bethany settles against her side, resting her head on her sister's shoulder. 

"I wish we didn't have to leave," Bethany murmurs, high on adrenaline and sex. 

"Sadly, the sea awaits." Isabela drops a towel on each of their laps and cants her hips. Her eyebrow arches as a naughty grin spreads across her lips. "But we do still have the rest of the evening."


End file.
